


just a daydream away

by tinymark (lumoon33)



Series: markhyuck week 2021 [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Friends, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Magical Realism, Markhyuck week 2021, Strangers to Lovers, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, but not really, day 4: dreams | magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28407117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumoon33/pseuds/tinymark
Summary: The first time he dreams of Minhyung, Donghyuck is 11, and he's crying.(or: donghyuck falls in love with the boy of his dreams.)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: markhyuck week 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076168
Comments: 167
Kudos: 598
Collections: Favorites, Markhyuck Week 2021





	just a daydream away

**Author's Note:**

> here's my entry for the day 4 of mh fan week: dreams/magic
> 
> this one was hard to write but i'm found of it so i hope you guys like it!!!

The first time he dreams of Minhyung, Donghyuck is 11, and he's crying.

In his defense, it doesn't feel like a normal dream at all. He's always been able to distinguish between dreams and reality quite easily because, while you can't escape from reality, there is always a way out of a dream.

His grandma talked to his parents about it, Donghyuck remembers. It happened back when he was 7 years old and he had started to wake up in the middle of the night at least twice a week. He used to tiptoe into his parents' room, holding his stuffed bear close to his chest as he shook his mother awake. Every time they asked him what happened, Donghyuck always told them the truth: the dream was too scary, so he decided to open the door and walk out of it.

"It's not weird for kids to be able to control or stop their dreams," he had heard his grandma say as he stayed hidden, kneeling under the stairs, the cold tiles of the hallway bruising his knees. "Some can even choose between them like movie catalogs."

"But he says he walks out of them," Donghyuck's mom had said, her voice strained with concern. "He's been waking up in the middle of the night for months now, it can't be healthy."

"He's a special kid, honey," his grandma used to say that all the time, back then. She still does, now, every time Donghyuck cuddles up to her instead of to his mom when a nightmare chases him out of sleep. _You're a special kid, Donghyuckie, don't let anyone change that_. "Kids with a supernatural background have more control over these kinds of things."

Donghyuck didn't know what _supernatural background_ meant when he was 7. He isn't quite sure of what it means now, at age 11. What he is sure about is that the grass under his naked feet feels way too real to be a dream.

The long strands keep sneaking through the spaces between his toes as he moves his weight from one leg to the other, clueless on what direction he should walk towards when everything around him looks the same: miles and miles of a bright green field and the vast nothing of a starless night sky.

He's sweaty and tired and crying, wet cheeks and dirty feet, sore due to the grit sticking to his bare soles. He's got his arms wrapped around himself as he keeps looking around, trying to spot the familiar white door that will lead him to the comfort of his childhood bed, only fifteen steps away from his grandma's room.

"Please, don't cry," those are the first words the pale boy says to him, gentle and quiet like a whisper. "Nothing can hurt you here."

Donghyuck turns around towards the voice so fast that he misses his footing, falling down on his butt over the prickly grass. He looks up towards the figure standing in front of him, his cheeks burning up with shame as he lays there, sprawled on the field, propped up by his now sore elbows.

"Who are you?" Donghyuck asks, high-pitched in fear, his panicked baby-voice sounding too loud in the quiet of this odd night.

"Are you okay?" the boy asks, his dark, arched eyebrows knitted in a worried grimace. He crouches down in front of Donghyuck, the fabric of his blue pajama pants tensing over his bony knees. His face is small and child-soft, a bit skinnier than Donghyuck's, but he doesn't look much older than him. "I think you can't get hurt here. Not for real," he says, and stretches one of his hands to wrap it around Donghyuck's left calf, his cold fingers digging into the soft flesh of the back of Donghyuck's leg.

Donghyuck hisses and recoils at the touch, harder and more piercing than any of the nightmares he's ever experienced before. He frowns at the boy suspiciously. He's still crying, and he tries to clean his nose with the sleeve of his sleeping shirt before he repeats, "Who are you?" snotty and broken.

"My name's Minhyung," the boy says. It is then when he smiles at Donghyuck for the first time, his cheeks hollowed out, lips pressed in a gentle line. His eyes shine so brightly in the darkness of the night that he might have stolen all the stars of the void sky above their heads. "I've been waiting for you."

When Donghyuck wakes up, he does so abruptly, still wet on the cheeks. He grips at his bed sheets anxiously, tugging at the fabric to make sure they are real, looking around his dim room with frantic eyes. He kicks the blankets away from his body and jumps out of the bed with unsteady legs. Then, he runs to his grandma’s room, leaving grass-stained footprints behind after each step.

\---

Minhyung is pale like a mirage and faint like a ghost.

But, when Donghyuck dares poke Minhyung’s hollow cheek the next time he falls asleep, his chubby finger doesn’t slip right through. Minhyung doesn’t disappear into thin air. Instead, he stays standing right next to Donghyuck, smiling down at him with squinted eyes, very much solid. Very much real.

\---

Donghyuck can't walk out of dreams anymore. The familiar white door is nowhere to be seen, the easiest escape route to jump out of his nightmares seems to be gone forever. But Minhyung is always there, waiting for Donghyuck at the other end of his sleep, always smiling and seemingly fearless.

"Are you a demon?" Donghyuck asks during another one of their shared nights, his legs dangling over the edge of the rooftop they are currently sitting on.

At first, Donghyuck tried to keep count of their meetings, but he gave up two weeks in when Minhyung didn't skip a single night.

He walks into a different scene each night, and today, it is the first time that they aren't surrounded by void blackness. The sky is light blue and clear—no birds, no planes, no clouds—as if Donghyuck and Minhyung are the only people left in the world. It should be comforting, the thought of the two of them by themselves, nothing and no one else inside of this dream to turn it into a nightmare. But, when Donhyuck looks down at his feet, they are hanging into nothingness. The building they are sitting on is so tall that all he can see is an endless blue free-fall.

"Aren't demons supposed to have, like, horns and tails and cool stuff?" Minhyung says, his voice broken in a giggle.

He does that all the time, giggle. Donghyuck finds it kind of fascinating, the way Minhyung's face scrunches up, his nose wrinkled and his eyes almost closed as he shakes through laughter at the smallest things. His giggle is a pretty sound—chirpy and loud and fresh—but Donghyuck thinks that's how all demons might sound like, beautiful enough to make you drop your guard so they can turn you into a fool.

"Tails aren't cool," Donghyuck frowns, tearing his eyes away from Minhyung's face before he can be caught staring. "Only a demon would think that their tail is cool stuff."

"How do I know that _you_ aren't a demon?" Minhyung says, bumping his shoulder against Donghyuck's to emphasize his words.

Donghyuck yelps in surprise, his hands tightening on the edge of the roof, nails scraping over the rough surface. "Do you want me to fall and die?” he spits, looking at Minhyung with all the suspicion he can muster. “Demon,” but Minhyung only chuckles one more time, louder than before, his head thrown back towards the clear sky.

They always talk like that, treat each other like the other doesn't exist even though Donghyuck is convinced he is very much real. Even if Donghyuck knows first hand that Minhyung _feels_ pretty real. He should ask his grandma about it, but there is something terrible in the prospect of Minhyung being just a trick of his childish imagination, no matter how little Donghyuck trusts him.

The following morning, Donghyuck wakes up with dirt under his nails. When he runs the pads of his fingers along the skin of his thighs, the marks of gravel indented there hurt like something real.

\---

"Can you exist in a dream?" Donghyuck asks, 13 years old and far too curious to keep biting his tongue any longer.

"You never stop existing when you're asleep," his grandma replies as she tousles her curly hair, white and fluffy like a cloud. She’s looking at him through half-closed eyes as if she knows he's hiding something. She's been looking at him like that for two years now.

"That's not what I mean," Donghyuck pouts, stretching his body over the kitchen table to try to reach his grandma. He opens his hands and parts his fingers, offering the spaces between them for her to intertwine their hands. When she does, she is warm and cold all at the same time. "Can you exist in two places at once?"

"Some people can exist in plenty of places at once," she replies, running her rugose thumb over the smooth skin of Donghyuck's knuckles. "You can exist in plenty of times at once, too."

Donghyuck doesn't think he gets it, the same way he didn't understand what _supernatural background_ meant when he was 7 years old. He gets that part now, though. He understands because, each time he looks into his grandma's eyes, he sees magic twinkling inside, the same kind of spark that makes Minhyung's eyes shine. He wonders if Minhyung can see the same thing every time he stares into Donghyuck's eyes.

His grandma squeezes his hands tightly, the wrinkled corners of her mouth tugging up as she says, “You're a special kid, Donghyuckie.”

\---

It is almost the end of winter in real life, but it is warm in the dream. Donghyuck is eating an ice cream he hasn't paid for, the strawberry cream melting faster than it should, pink sugar smeared over his knuckles and down his wrist, soaking the cuff of his pajama shirt.

"Is your grandma a psychic, too?" he asks, looking at Minhyung over the top of his cone.

Minhyung purses his lips, his own mouth dirty with chocolate, brown stains spreading down his chin. "I've never asked her."

"It's not something you ask," Donghyuck frowns at his own dirty hand. He leans in to catch a pink droplet of cream with his tongue, the skin somehow both sweet and salty under his mouth. "You just know."

"Dude, you're so gross," Minhyung groans, looking at him with big round eyes, sparkling so bright that Donghyuck is more than convinced that there's magic in them.

The words are mean, but he speaks with a small smile on his lips, his cheekbones sticking out, and the corners of his eyes turning soft. He's always talked to Donghyuck like this, superficial words tangled into a sickeningly sweet tone, fondness hanging from every sentence that comes out of his lips.

Donghyuck doesn't know how to feel about it, but Minhyung's eyes on him cause his skin to heat up with no previous warning. His entire body feels made of fire—sweaty palms, sweaty armpits, and sweaty thighs—he blames it on _puberty_. He isn't even sure what that word means, but his teachers keep throwing it around in class lately, and, apparently, it makes you act all weird.

He knows his feelings are showing up on his face because they are walking through an empty street flanked by full-body mirrors. Donghyuck peeks at his reflection through the corners of his eyes and curses under his breath when he sees the deep red that's painting his cheeks.

"Don't swear," Minhyung scolds him, but he’s still smiling when he does. He’s always smiling. "You're a child."

There’s still half a year left for his birthday, but Donghyuck lies to him. "I'm almost 14," smiling too, but never as sweet. He twists his mouth in the most wicked smirk he can create, flipping his middle finger at Minhyung when he says. "Fuck you."

He takes off, then, running through the empty streets. His bare feet hurt more and more with each stride, but Donghyuck doesn't really care, not when he can hear Minhyung's chirpy laughter chasing after him.

Once he wakes up, his mom scolds him for eating ice cream during the winter, shaking Donghyuck's dirty pajamas in her hand as she stomps around the house screaming. When he was younger, Donghyuck used to hate it when her mom screamed at him. Today, he finds himself hiding his laughter in the crook of his elbow.

\---

Donghyuck got used to Minhyung the same way he got used to his grandma when she moved in with his family: fast and irretrievably and unapologetically. They both felt familiar and electrifying since day one, and they both burst into his life determined to stay.

Suddenly, Donghyuck is 15 and everything around him feels foreign. He can't trust his body, growing and hurting and changing a little bit every day. He can't trust his voice, breaking and cracking and betraying him every two sentences. He can't even trust his friends, because they aren't with him anymore.

He threw a useless tantrum when his parents told him they would be moving, trading his small childhood town for the imposing Seoul City. Now, high school has become this old, threatening building that looms over him like a nightmare every time he has to step inside, full of rude rich kids that keep staring him down.

That's why Donghyuck can't wait to fall asleep, more than ready to run into whatever his imagination will make up that night and soak in the familiar presence that is Minhyung, a lot more genuine than any of the people he keeps crossing paths with through his daily life.

Donghyuck spends his nights running around places he would never be able to reach in real life, sharing foods and sweets and laughter with a boy he's starting to think is way too good to be true. He sleeps wishing the morning will never come and, once he inevitably wakes up, he keeps the small traces of his dreams like secret treasures—strands of grass, chewing gum wrappers, small rocks, and weird seashells— all of it hidden in a box under his bed.

He can't even remember the last time he tried to look for the white exit door. He doesn't know when it happened, but he's warmed up to the fact that he can't walk of dreams anymore. It's not like he wants to, anyway.

\---

"I'm glad you're making friends, Hyuck," Minhyung says once Donghyuck finally shuts up, mouth dry and sticky after spending half an hour talking about Renjun and Jaemin and Jeno, and how the four of them managed to sneak into the high school gym once the building was already closed. "It was about time, you look happier."

It's the way he says it, smiling soft and genuine, that squeezes Donghyuck's chest like someone is trying to force his heart to stop beating.

They are standing on a sealess beach, pink grains of sand slipping between Donghyuck's naked toes, soft like cotton. The sun is high in the sky, painting rosy shadows over Minhyung's pale skin. They are eating strawberry lollipops, and the sweet candy turns Minhyung's smile cherry red.

There's nothing about the scene that should make Donghyuck as sad as he's feeling right now. But now he knows what puberty means, he knows from experience that being a teenager sucks, that uncontrollable feelings you don't even understand come crashing down on you like freezing waves, the residual foam setting under your ribs forever, shaping you as a person.

And there's something so sad about Minhyung's genuine care for him, about the happiness that twinkles in his dark, dark eyes, mixed up with that magical glow that only shines brighter and brighter as the years go by. Donghyuck wants to introduce him to his new friends so badly that it hurts. He wants to hold Minhyung's hand in front of other people and show him around his normal, boring city.

"You're my best friend, you know?" Donghyuck blurts out, his fingers grabbing at the blue sleeve of Minhyung's pajama shirt.

Minhyung only stares back at him, his lollipop shoved into his mouth, his smile shrinking and shrinking around the stick until it disappears completely. He casts his eyes down, looking at their feet so he doesn't have to look into Donghyuck's eyes.

"What's wrong?" Donghyuck tugs at Minhyung’s sleeve, shuffling closer. "I'm your best friend too, aren't I?"

But Minhyung won't look up at him. He disentangles Donghyuck's hand from the fabric of his pajama and threads their fingers together instead, staring down at their joined hands with wide eyes.

"You're a dream," Minhyung mumbles, small and frail and honest around his lollipop. Somehow, it sounds like a compliment as much as a sentence, flattering and dooming all at once.

For the first time in years, Donghyuck wishes he could walk out.

\---

"Is there a way to bottle up laughter?" Donghyuck asks his grandma during a school morning that he's faked sickness just to be able to sleep more.

"I know you aren't sick, Donghyuckie. Get out of bed," his grandma tells him fondly, her arms crossed over her chest as she stands by the open door of his bedroom.

Donghyuck tugs at his blankets, pulls them up to his nose to hide his expression when he asks, "What about dreams? Can you bottle up a dream? Can you take a person out of a dream?"

"You can't take a person out of a dream because no one exists only in dreams," his grandma says.

The words take a few seconds to sink in, clicking into Donghyuck's brain like a magic trick. He sits up in bed so fast that he gets dizzy, blood rushing through his temples and eyes glazing over as he stares at his grandma with his heart pounding in his throat.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that your brain can't make up faces," she's still smiling at him, looking far from confused. Her expression is patient, as if she's been waiting for this conversation to happen. "If you see someone in your dreams, that's because you've seen them before in real life."

Donghyuck curses his memory under his breath. It is still loud enough for his grandma to scold him, but he can't bring himself to care.

He bites down into his lower lip, hard enough to print the shape of his teeth into the soft flesh as he frowns at his bed sheets, his hands going knuckle-white as he tries to disentangle dreams from reality in his mind, searching for a piece of Minhyung that could fit into his real life. But he was way too young the first time Minhyung showed up in his dreams, an impressionable kid that didn't have the attention span to hold onto everything that happened around him.

"B-but, what if..." he stutters, his bottom lip trembling once it slips out from between his teeth. "What if you see the same person all the time? Every night?"

He doesn't want to look up at his grandmother, scared of what he will read in her aged eyes, in the experience carved into every wrinkle on her small face. Silence stretches out for so long between them that it is almost suffocating.

She's grinning once he finally dares look up, her eyes almost gone between her heavy eyelids. "Maybe you're in love, Donghyuckie."

The words steal the air from Donghyuck's lungs like a spell. He doesn't even know what _love_ means yet, but something in his head is screaming at him that, if someone could ever teach him, it would have to be Minhyung. And, somehow, the sole thought is scarier than any nightmare he ever had as a little kid.

"Not many people can meet their soulmate through a dream," his grandma hums, tilting her head to the side and staring at him with interest, something new that doesn't seem to fit in her old features. "But you're a special kid, aren't you, Hyuckie?"

For once, the phrase doesn't make him feel special. It makes him feel cursed.

\---

"So?" Donghyuck looks at Minhyung with wide, expectant eyes, shuffling on his feet, the wood underneath his soles hot against his naked skin. "Do you remember me?"

"I can't tell," Minhyung is frowning, his head tilted downwards and his eyes cast low. He keeps doing that lately, keeps avoiding Donghyuck's gaze. "I walked into a dream one day and I just knew I was supposed to wait for someone. Then, you showed up."

"You must've seen me or something, before I showed up," Donghyuck insists, reaching forward to grab Minhyung's forearm with impatient hands.

Donghyuck holds on tightly, way too sudden, and the movement startles Minhyung. He stumbles backward, one of his feet slipping through the hole between the rails they are standing on, causing him to trip and fall on his back, pulling Donghyuck down with him in the process.

The fall is abrupt and painful. Minhyung yelps, grabbing onto Donghyuck's waist in a useless attempt to stay on his feet, but he ends up scratching the tender skin with his half bitten nails. Donghyuck bites his tongue so hard when he falls that he swears he can taste metallic blood in his mouth. His chest and knees collide against Minhyung, and he goes breathless at the impact.

"Oh my god," Minhyung grunts, still fisting Donghyuck's shirt in his hands, stretching it between his fingers. "I think I ripped your pajama. Oh, god," he lets go of the fabric slowly, spreading his palms over the small of Donghyuck's back instead.

It hurts when Minhyung's fingers rub over the scratched skin, but Donghyuck doesn't complain. He was ready for Minhyung to push him away so they could scramble back to their feet, but when he doesn't, Donghyuck twists in his grasp until he's straddling Minghyuck's legs, their chests still pressed flush together as they stay like that for a while.

Minhyung keeps his arms tight around Donghyuck's waist, trapping him flat against his body even though they are lying down on the rails, the edges of the wood probably digging into Minhyung's back uncomfortably. He's still rubbing the pads of his thumbs over Donghyuck's back in slow circles. It stings when he touches Donghyuck's damaged skin directly, fingers sliding through the new ripped hole on his pajama shirt, but it is a pleasant burn, this time.

"I'm sorry," Minhyung mumbles, pressing the words against Donghyuck's hair. "I know your mom gets mad when you get back with your clothes ruined."

Donghyuck shakes his head, hooking his chin on Minhyung's shoulder because he can, because it's comfortable. Because Minhyung is _there_.

There's this tiny part of Donghyuck that's never stopped waiting for Minhyung to disappear into thin air, to blur right before his eyes until he isn't distinguishable anymore, melted away forever. He blames it on Minhyung's skin, so pale that he looks almost sick, bleached of color to the point that he never blushes—not even during their warm dreams, when the sun is so high up in the sky that Donghyuck wakes up sunburnt.

Now, with his grandma's words fresh in his head and Minhyung hot under his body, that uncontrollable fear is turning into something very similar to hope. Donghyuck isn't sure which one he's more scared of.

"Are you sure you've never seen me before?" Donghyuck asks, a whisper against the shell of Minhyung's ear as he keeps his eyes focused on the ground. His fingers grip on Minhyung's shoulders tightly, just to make sure there's no way he can slip away.

"I don't remember," Minhyung's voice is sad, and he tightens his arms around Donghyuck's waist as if he's scared Donghyuck will turn into nothing between his grip, as well. "But if there's a chance you're out there, I'll keep looking for you."

\---

When he's awake, Donghyuck spends the hours looking for Minhyung in every face around him.

It feels a bit meaningless at first because, as much as it pains Donghyuck to admit it, Minhyung doesn't look like he's been made for the real world. He's way too used to Minhyung's bare feet walking on water, to his calloused hands holding onto clouds, to his pajamas staying dry when it starts to pour on them. Minhyung is way too bright to live a normal life, even trapped under his pale, sickly skin. Donghyuck has never seen anyone's eyes shine the way Minhyung's do, like bottled up magic, like loud laughter, like stolen stars.

But, if there is a possibility that the magical can be tangled up and lost between the ordinary, Donghyuck’s grandma is the living proof of it. So why can’t Minhyung be another exception?

He keeps searching, his eyes jumping from unfamiliar face to unfamiliar face in the middle of the high school cafeteria. He isn't expecting anything, but his heart still skips over beats and leaps up to his throat every time he spots someone with dark hair and a mole on their cheek.

"Hyuck, wake up," Jaemin's voice cuts in through his thoughts, accompanied by a loud giggle when Jeno wiggles his hand in front of Donghyuck's eyes. "You're always half gone lately, what's wrong with you?"

Donghyuck blinks at them startled, straightening his back against the backrest of his chair for a second. His right cheek feels sore due to the amount of time he's spent with his head propped on his fist, eyes dry for chasing strangers around for too long.

He parts his mouth to lick his chapped lips, his shoulders slumping down when he looks at his friends sitting in front of him. They are staring back at him with forced amused expressions and poorly hidden concern. _Because they actually care_ , Donghyuck thinks.

"What do you think about soulmates?" he's blurting out before he can hold his tongue back, his eyes widening in surprise at his own words once he registers them.

It's a word he's never said out loud, _soulmate_. He hasn't even talked about it with Minhyung, too sickeningly sweet under the back of his tongue every time he dares try it out in the quiet of his empty room. It's always been something meant for fairy tales, sweet nothings exchanged between married couples that have been together since high school, a running joke between friends that have more than two things in common. It's not a term for serious talks, it's not something you should build up your life around.

Still, here's Donghyuck, wasting away his days looking for a soulmate that he's half sure doesn't exist.

Jeno is the first one to break the silence between them, snickering softly, his eyes turning into crescent moons as he tilts his head at Donghyuck. "Where does that even come from?"

"Have you been watching romcoms again? Or do you like someone?" Jaemin asks next, his mouth spreading into a wide grin full of perfectly white teeth. He crooks one of his eyebrows at Donghyuck, his tongue pushing the inside of his cheek before he says, "Ohhh, so you like someone and you weren't going to tell us anything, bastard."

 _That's why you're always swearing_ , Minhyung's voice resounds in Donghyuck's mind, so sudden that his cheeks heat up at the timing. _Your friends have the dirtiest mouths ever_.

"Look, he's blushing!" Jeno leans over the table, reaching forward with his right hand to press the tips of his fingers into Donghyuck's soft cheek.

"Shut the fuck up," Donghyuck groans at him, slapping the hand away. "I don't like anybody, it's just shit my grandma says."

"You don't like anyone, my ass," Renjun snaps, his arms crossed over his chest as he levels Donghyuck with a serious look. He's always glancing at Donghyuck like that, like he's trying to see right through him. But Donghyuck is fully aware that his reality is way too unbelievable for anyone to understand, no matter how lonely that fact makes him feel. "Your grades are plummeting so hard that I’m starting to think we aren't gonna be seeing you at all this summer. Always daydreaming around and shit."

And _oh_ , how Donghyuck wishes he could daydream Minhyung into existence.

\---

In the end, Minhyung is the one to bring it up.

They are lying in the middle of a bridge, the asphalt sun-warm under Donghyuck's back even though the sky above them is pitch back. He's got his eyes closed, and he’s breathing fast and shallow as he waits for another car to come rushing towards them.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" Minghyung asks, and the question takes the breath out of Donghyuck's lungs faster than any of the cars that have been driven over him tonight.

He snaps his eyes open, turning his head around to look at Minhyung, his cheek pressed flat against the ground. Of course Minhyung is already staring back at him, his eyes so wide and dark that they match the sky, they look just as infinite and impossible.

Donghyuck can't find the words to reply because he isn't even sure of his answer. But Minhyung doesn't wait for him. He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at Donghyuck with a soft smile on his lips as he places a pale hand on Donghyuck's chest, right over where his heart is thrumming against his ribcage. Minhyung presses down hard, the tips of his fingers digging into Donghyuck's flesh, and his smile stretches into a grin when Donghyuck's heart picks up at the touch.

"I think," Minhyung starts, his gaze sliding from Donghyuck's face down to the hand on his chest. "If they existed, you wouldn't give up on finding me, right?"

When Donghyuck parts his lips to reply, all that comes out is a broken gasp. He lifts a hand to wrap his fingers around Minhyung's wrist, squeezing the fragile bones there as he pushes Minhyung's palm harder against his chest, wishing the shape would stay marked on his skin forever.

"I'm finding you," he whispers. Minhyung’s eyes snap up to Donghyuck’s face, his eyebrows lowered on his forehead in a sad grimace. He keeps looking sadder and sadder as the nights go by, and Donghyuck is too scared to ask why. "No matter what's real and what isn't, I’m finding you."

It's been years since the day Donghyuck grew to believe that nightmares couldn't reach him anymore, not here, at least. But then Minhyung sniffs and asks, "What if I'm not real?"

And the only answer Donghyuck can offer him is fear.

\---

It doesn't hit Donghyuck until he's turned 18 and they've traded lollipops for beers.

They are lying down in a pool as if they were lying on a mattress, Minhyung's body pressed up to Donghyuck's side from shoulder to ankle, giggling as they keep passing a bottle of beer between. Donghyuck has lost count of how many bottles they have drunk, but it's not like it matters, because he can't feel the effects of it anywhere other than the new heat on his cheeks.

Minhyung is as pale as always, though. He keeps laughing, light and carefree and high-pitched as he curls into Donghyuck's side, hitting his chest with every fit of laughter that rattles through him. It doesn't hurt, the slap of Minhyung's open hand against Donghyuck's skin, but Donghyuck finds himself wishing each hit would leave something behind, a trace of Minhyung to carry with him back to real life.

Water slides into Donghyuck's mouth when he turns around to look at Minhyung properly—it tastes sweet like honey, and it slips into his mouth and nose—but doesn't make his breathing any harder. They are in a dream, after all.

It's only then when it hits him. He watches Minhyung, laughing under the purple clouds in the sky, the soft orange light of the sun dancing shadows over the hard lines of his face, and Donghyuck realizes how much they've grown up, side by side, dream by dream.

Where Minhyung's face used to be child-soft and round—a small nose and eyes that seemed too big for his face—it is now sharp and slender and _handsome_. Donghyuck is reaching out before he realizes, running the fingertips of his right hand over the firm line of Minhyung's jawline, softly.

The gesture startles Minhyung mid-laughter. He blinks at Donghyuck slowly, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp, lips shining with alcohol. And if Minhyung belonged to the real world, Donghyuck is pretty sure he'd be blushing right now.

Donghyuck wants to make him blush so badly, he thinks as he rests his thumb in the dip under Minhyung's lower lip, staring in awe when the pad of his finger fits there perfectly. Minhyung would look so pretty with a cloud of rosy dust over his cheeks, matching the shy look he's giving Donghyuck right now, open-mouthed and heavy-lidded as his eyes jump all over Donghyuck's face.

It makes no sense, the fact that Minhyung keeps growing up before Donghyuck's eyes nonstop, his cheekbones getting sharper, face slimmer, shoulders broad and hard under Donghyuck's palm when he clutches the fabric of his pajama with his free hand. If Donghyuck has ever seen him in real life before, it must've happened when he was 11 or younger. If Minhyung isn't real, he should stay a child in Donghyuck's dreams, trapped in the endless loop of his imagination.

"What are you doing?" Minhyung asks, his lower lip getting caught under Donghyuck's thumb as he speaks.

He sounds shy and rough, short of breath, but he's still pale like a shadow. Still, he feels scorching hot against Donghyuck's skin.

It is a bit too much, the dizzy rush of affection towards this boy mixed up with the cold fact that he might be just a mirage of the best friend Donghyuck has always yearned for. No matter how many times his grandma tells him he's a special kid, 7 years into this and Donghyuck still struggles to find the compliment between the words.

So he smirks, twisted and playful and far less sweet than Minhyung, and pushes Minhyung's head into the water, laughing at the shocked expression on his pale face before he disappears into the dark blue liquid.

Minhyung drags him down with him, though, as always. His hand clutches Donghyuck's forearm and pulls down, down, down, until everything around them tastes sweet like honey and looks black like a nightmare.

Even underwater, Minhyung's laughter rings like magic.

\---

It happens during the first day of University.

Donghyuck feels less connected to reality than usual, even with Renjun, Jaemin and Jeno right by his side. They are sitting in the middle of the assembly hall, an irrational vertigo curling in Donghyuck's belly when he looks down towards the stand in the front of the class. A professor is standing there, speaking into a mic about new things and new eras and a new life. He's talking as if it's something to be excited about, but the words stab Donghyuck's stomach like needles.

Everything feels like a dream, but the bad kind, one of those Donghyuck used to run away from when he was a little kid. Donghyuck just rubs his hands against his jeans and thinks, _I want to go back to sleep_.

It is then when someone sitting in the same row as them gets up from their seat. It is a black-haired boy that ducks his head embarrassedly when everyone in the room follows him with their eyes as he makes his way out of the room, jumping over his future classmates' legs.

It takes Donghyuck a shallow breath to recognize him. He looks so different like this: wearing tight black pants and a plaid overshirt unbuttoned over a boring white t-shirt, his hair tousled to the side, black strands falling gently over his forehead, brushing his right curved brow.

Donghyuck is so used to seeing him in rumpled sleeping clothes that the sight doesn't register until the boy is right in front of him, mumbling a soft _I'm sorry_ as he jumps over Donghyuck's spread legs. He's pressing his lips in a tight line, his cheek dimpled right under the small mole there.

"Minhyung," Donghyuck croaks under his breath, his hand jumping up and circling around the boy's wrist before he can help himself. It feels exactly the same, thin and frail in the vicious circle of Donghyuck's hand.

The guy halts mid-step, turning around to look at Donghyuck with wide eyes, so big and so dark that Donghycuk feels himself slipping inside. He feels like he’s underwater, floating in the bottom of a pool at dawn. He has to be dreaming.

"Um, excuse me," the boy says, hushed and quiet so no one else but Donghyuck can hear. "Do we- I mean, do I know you?" he stumbles over his words, rolling off his tongue thickly in an accent Donghyuck is unfamiliar with.

"You," Donghyuck starts, his hand tightening around the guy's arm. "Minhyung, it's me," he whispers, dry-mouthed as he stares up in expectation, waiting for the moment he will jump awake, startled. Waiting for Minhyung to laugh with creaked eyes and meet him halfway.

But the guy in front of him only knits his eyebrows together, tilting his head to the side as he tugs his wrist free from Donghyuck's hold. "I'm sorry. I think I'm not... Not who you think I am," he whispers in Minhyung's voice, but sounding like a stranger all the same. "Sorry."

When the boy walks away, he never looks back. Donghyuck is left behind, wondering if daydreams can turn into nightmares.

He wants to go back to sleep, and never wake up again.

\---

"I saw you today," Donghyuck says as soon as Minhyung appears in front of him, his pajama shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, his hair sticking up in different directions as he looks back at Donghyuck with tired eyes. "While I was awake."

Donghyuck is sitting on the edge of a grey sidewalk, his legs stretched over the black asphalt. Everything looks muted and blue around them tonight, the skin of Minhyung's feet shining whiter than usual as he makes his way towards Donghyuck, coming to stand right in between his legs.

With a shuddering intake of breath, Donghyuck lifts his shaky hands to place them on Minhyung's calves, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of the back of his legs harder than necessary. It brings him back to that first night when he ended up lying down on the grass in front of a round-faced Minhyung, with Minhyung's baby-hands on his skin, piercing and hard and the complete opposite of something dream-like.

"You didn't recognize me," Donghyuck chokes out, dropping his forehead against Minhyung's left shin. "I called your name, and you looked at me as if I was a stranger," he whispers almost inaudibly, but Minhyung catches it anyway, because it's a dream, after all.

There are fingers on Donghyuck's nape then, cold and warm all at once as Minhyung presses his pads to the tense muscles there. He rubs Donghyuck's skin, following the line of his spine until his hand slips into his hair. His nails scratch at Donghyuck's scalp when he twists his fingers in the strands, dragging an involuntary moan out of Donghyuck's throat as he tugs at his hair, forcing him to look up.

When their eyes meet, Minhyung is smiling down at Donghyuck, but incredibly sad. It's always like this lately, his giggles scarce, his smiles small and tight like the edge of a nightmare. Donghyuck sinks his nails into Minhyung's legs just to make sure he's still solid, still _there_.

"Donghyuck," Minhyung says, the name rolling off his tongue like a lullaby, awfully gentle, unbelievable lovely, and sounding further away than he's ever felt before. But he's still so familiar that Donghyuck's shoulders sag with relief for a second. "I don't think we're alive at the same time, Hyuck."

A mix of sadness and desperation wrecks through Donghyuck so suddenly that it's almost scary. He twists his fingers into the fabric of Minhyung's pajama pants as he keeps looking up at him, the form of the boy in front of him growing blurrier and blurrier as Donghyuck's eyes fill up with tears. When he whimpers, the sound is so broken and pathetic that it makes Donghyuck feel embarrassed. He doesn't remember ever feeling embarrassed around Minhyung, their shared dreams have always been a cocoon of safety and familiarity where Donghyuck could finally feel like himself, standing proudly like the special kid his grandma always says he is. But now, emotions are running through him like a river, black and turbulent, the kind that has the power to twist you inside out.

But when Donghyuck tries to duck his head to hide his tears, Minhyung tightens the grip on his hair, his fingers tugging firmly to keep their eyes locked together.

"Hey," he whispers as he crouches down in front of Donghyuck, his other hand coming up to cradle the side of his face. Minhyung's thumb is soft like a summer breeze when he runs his pad under Donghyuck's eye, and the tears melt away under his touch as if they were never there. "Don't cry, I'm still here."

Donghyuck thinks: _for how long_?

And it hurts so much, because Minhyung is still here, but he will never be anywhere else but _here_. And that's so terrible in Donghyuck's mind, now more than usual, when Minhying looks more magical than ever, shining silver under the empty sky as if he's been born out of moonlight. Donghyuck has never seen anyone prettier, and it's a tragedy that he's the only one who gets to see him.

"Kiss me?" Donghyuck asks into the darkness that surrounds them, scared and thick with tears, the way he sounded the first night they met. "Please?"

For a second, he thinks that Minhyung is about to reject him. They are incredibly close, so close that the tips of their noses brush together with each heavy breath that Donghyuck lets out. So close, that Donghyuck can clearly see the way Minhyung's eyes dim at his words, and he's terrified that Minhyung might start crying as well. That'd be worse than any nightmare.

But, then, Minhyung smiles, sweet and private as if it's a secret worth keeping, even though they have no one to keep it from when they are the only ones existing here.

It doesn't make any sense but, to Donghyuck, when Minhyung kisses him, it _feels_ like a secret.

\---

Donghyuck wakes up abruptly, his lips tingling like glitter, and his clammy hands twisting in his blankets. He blinks rapidly in the darkness of his room, his heart in his throat as he waits for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light.

Once he looks around, though, he's alone in bed.

He can still feel the warm touch of Minhyung's hands on his cheeks, soft like a summer day. He can still feel the weight of Minhyung's lips on his own, bright like the morning sun. He can still taste Minhyung inside of his mouth, cotton candy sweet and dream-soft, chirpy like laughter and sad like a _see you later_ when you don't know when _later_ may come. Donghyuck has never been kissed before, so he isn't sure if this is how it's supposed to feel like, or if it's just what happens when your first kiss has been gifted to a dream.

Donghyuck screws his eyes closed, turning around in bed until he can bury his nose into his pillow, trying to chase after a warmth he knows he won't find. But, when he breathes in deep, his sheets smell like moonlight and Minhyung.

It may sound like it doesn't make sense at all, but it makes sense to Donghyuck, and that's enough.

\---

This boy with Minhyung's face keeps showing up in the corner of Donghyuck's eye, no matter how hard Donghyuck tries to avoid him.

It's frustrating to walk into the cafeteria, the library, or the music classroom to find him always there. His skin is pale, but it glows with the residual tan of summer, his dark hair always styled nicely and falling gently over his forehead, his street clothes ironed and clean and fitting perfectly on a body that doesn’t belong to him.

Donghyuck resents him so much. It is irrational and unfair and he _knows it_. But he can't stand the sight of him, always sleepy-looking, running through the hallways as if he's too much of a mess to make it in time to any of his classes. He looks incredibly human and walks through real life like he belongs there, stealing a spot that should belong to Minhyung.

"Why won't you go out with us tonight, Hyuck?" Jaemin's voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

Donghyuck only hums to let him know that he's listening, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the fake Minhyung. He's sitting at the bar in the cafeteria of their university faculty, skimming over a textbook while he fiddles with the spoon of what looks like a cup of hot chocolate. He's so absorbed into his book that Donghyuck wouldn't be surprised if he ended up knocking his cup over and spilling the liquid all over his clothes. Donghyuck admits he wouldn't mind seeing that happening.

"Dude," Donghyuck jumps startled when Jeno snaps his fingers into his ear. "Are you ignoring us right now?"

"What?" Donghyuck turns to look at them with wide eyes, his cheeks growing hot at the three pairs of eyebrows crooked at him. "Sorry, I don't know where my head's at," he mumbles and flips Renjun off when he scoffs at him.

"Come with us tonight," Jaemin repeats, stretching his body over the table they're sitting at to twist his fingers into the sleeve of Donghyuck's sweater. "We never go out together, you're so boring."

Donghyuck only rolls his eyes at him. He hates these situations because he can never offer them a real answer. It's not like he can tell them that he doesn't want to party because he doesn't want to be late to his dreams.

"What if I tell you that Mark Lee’s gonna be there," Jaemin insists, pushing his fingertips into the flesh of Donghyuck's forearm, a Cheshire smile painted on his face. "Will you join us then?"

"Who the fuck is Mark?" Donghyuck snaps, tugging his arm out of Jaemin's grip.

Renjun scoffs at him again. "The guy you've been making eyes at since our first day here," he says, tilting his head towards the bar.

Donghyuck whips his head around, his gaze finding the fake Minhyung one more time. The guy snaps his eyes up as if he can feel the attention on him, his eyebrows raised in his forehead in perfect curves as he stares back at Donghyuk, the seams of his mouth chocolate-stained.

"I'm not making eyes at anyone," Donghyuck hisses, turning around to face his friends again as he gets up from his seat. "And I have to study tonight."

Ignoring Jaemin's complaints, Donghyuck picks up his bag from the floor and runs out of there, the image of 15-year-old Minhyung burning in his head, mouth and hands sticky with chocolate as they shared ice creams.

\---

"I talked to you today," Minhyung says that night, eyes sparkling purple under the multicolored light of the mirrorball that’s spinning over their heads, shooting beams of light everywhere. "In real life."

Donghyuck looks away from Minhyung's face, his features soft in a smile that is meant for someone else. "Did you?" he mumbles as he stares at his feet, his naked toes sinking into the velvety floor of the night club they are in.

Minhyung hums in agreement. Donghyuck isn't looking at him, but he can hear the splash of his feet against the liquid ground as he walks closer. "You were very sweet," he whispers, his voice like a caress against the shell of Donghyuck's ear as he brings his cold hands around Donghyuck's waist.

"Sweeter than I am here?" Donghyuck asks, his breath trapped between his ribs as he waits for an answer.

The tips of Minhyung's fingers are feather-soft against his lower back as he walks around Donghyuck. He's so close that his nose brushes Donghyuck's temple when he comes to stand right in front of him.

"You're always sweet," Minhyung says, sure of himself and honest. "No matter where you are."

But that's not an answer, that's an easy escape. Donghyuck frowns down at his own feet, Minhyung's pale ones at each side of his now, and bites down on his tongue until it hurts to stop himself from turning a good dream into a bitter one.

"Did I know you?"

Minhyung doesn't reply out loud, but his nose bumps against Donghyuck's when he shakes his head no. "Stop frowning, you're too young to get wrinkles," he takes one of his hands off of Donghyuck's waist to curl his freezing fingers around his chin, forcing him to look up. "Dance with me?"

Music starts playing out of nowhere, filling up the shiny dance floor with the perfect melody at the perfect timing, because this is a dream, after all. But Donghyuck is starting to hate that fact. He hates how everything is painted in unrealistic scenes, like loud reminders that this is all happening inside of his head, that he can't grab Minhyung's hand and drag him along with him to his bedroom floor once he opens his eyes the next morning.

It's dumb and unnecessary and _painful_. And, still, Donghyuck doesn't want to be anywhere else.

So he laughs when Minhyung digs his fingers into his ribs. He giggles clear and light and _real_ , and they jump fast together to a slow song until their feet hurt. Because it is a dream after all, so who the hell cares if they are out of rhythm.

\---

Donghyuck is trying his best to stop himself from thinking about it, but as the nights go by, Minhyung shows up paler than usual and leaves faster than usual.

Donghyuck is trying his best to stop himself from thinking about it, but as the nights go by, Mark is always in the corner of his eye, staring at Donghyuck from across crowded rooms as if he's a wonder.

\---

"Is it possible to fall in love with the wrong version of your soulmate?" Donghyuck asks one night he can't handle it anymore.

His grandma is lying in bed, her skin looking so moon-pale that it reminds him of Minhyung. They've always been so intertwined together in Donghyuck's head that they seem to be slipping between his fingers at the same time, and he doesn't know how to stop any of them from leaving him behind.

"There is no such thing as a wrong version of a soulmate, Donghyuckie," she smiles softly at him, her wrinkled fingers curling around Donghyuck's ankle where his feet are resting on her mattress. "Don't get too caught up on the terminology, you don't even need to think of him as your soulmate."

"What else am I supposed to think of him as?" Donghyuck is so trapped in his own head, tangled into his feelings, that he doesn't pay any mind to the fact that he's never told his grandma he was talking about a boy. "Just a random dream boy?"

The words leave his mouth at the same time his mom walks into the room, balancing warm soup and a glass of water on a big tray. "Aren't you too old to be having imaginary friends?" she asks as she puts down the tray over his grandma's legs.

Donghyuck is aware that the words aren't meant to hurt him, he knows that his mom was never able to warm up to magic the way Donghyuck has. She's looking at him with a tight-lipped smile, an empty mirror of a joke when her eyebrows are pinched in genuine concern. Still, the words pierce through him like a needle, scratch at his insides like the sharp claws of an old nightmare. The only reason why he doesn't burst into tears right there is the feeling of his grandmother's fingers around his ankle, an iron-grip with a strength she shouldn't even be capable of.

When Donghyuck's mom leaves the room, his grandma pats his ankle fondly and says, "He's everything but random, isn't he?"

And oh, how Donghyuck wishes he could disagree.

\---

"Back where I live your name is Haechan," Minhyung says. "It means full sun."

That's all he seems to be able to talk about lately, this boy back home that walks around with Donghyuck's face. This boy who smiles at him when he's awake and walks by his side in front of other people. A boy who could hang out with his friends and meet his parents and visit all of his favorite places if Minhyung ever decided he wanted to share that with him. And, by the way Minhyung's eyes light up when he brings him up, Donghyuck is starting to think that he does want to share everything with him.

"What a dumb name," Donghyuck huffs at him, crossing his arms and turning around so Minhyung can't read the jealousy written all over his face. It's so fucking stupid, Donghyuck thinks as he digs his toes into the grass they are sitting on, to be jealous of himself.

"It's not dumb," Minhyung mumbles, his lips dragging along Donghyuck's cheek as he rests his chin on his shoulder from behind. He's always doing this, lately. He arrives late and leaves too soon, but while he's here he drapes himself all over Donghyuck as if he wants to get under his skin. "I think it suits you."

Donghyuck leans back against Minhyung's chest anyway, because he's always been so, so weak. "And why's that?"

"It sounds stupid when I say it out loud..." Minhyung trails off. His right arm comes up to curl around Donghyuck's shoulders, his thumb catching in the hollow between his collarbones.

"Everything you say sounds stupid," Donghyuck grumbles, throwing his head back until it's resting against Minhyung's shoulder.

"It suits you because," Minhyung slides his hand up the line of Donghyuck's neck until he reaches his chin, he pushes at the edge of his jaw to force Donghyuck to look at him. "Your eyes glow like sunlight," he whispers, so close that his breath fans over Donghyuck's cheeks.

Donghyuck's breath catches in his throat at the way Minhyung is looking at him, incredibly fond, always sad, and shining like the stars. He wants to kiss him again so, so badly. But he wants to kiss him awake.

"You're so cheesy, oh my god," he says instead, pushing his head backward again, eyes screwed shut so he can pretend this isn't happening.

Minhyung's chest vibrates against Donghyuck's back when he laughs. He hides his nose in the crook of Donghyuck's neck, his lips brushing over the heated skin there as he asks, "Are you gonna fall asleep in a dream?"

Donghyuck can't find the words to reply, he's too caught up in his head, wondering if Minhyung would want to share his dreams with Haechan, too.

\---

"He's a year older than us. And from Canada, that's why he has an accent and why he's behind in some classes," Jaemin is saying, one arm slung over Donghyuck's shoulders as they make their way to their next class. "And he plays the guitar! I heard him jamming the other night at a party... He's actually good Hyuck, you could sing with him."

"I don’t sing in front of people.”

“Well, you should!”

“Why are you telling me all this again?" Donghyuck asks, pushing Jaemin's arm off of his shoulders. But Jaemin latches onto him like a limpet, smiling all big and proud.

"And! He's got a cute laugh!" he yells, wiggling his eyebrows at Donghyuck exaggeratedly. "Seriously, such a cute laugh, Hyuck. He's so funny. Who doesn't like a funny guy?"

Once they arrive at their classroom, Donghyuck pushes Jaemin's chest with his elbow, finally detaching himself from his embrace. "Sounds like you should date him, then, if you like him that much," he huffs, hugging his notebook to his chest.

"Aw, are you jealous, Hyuckie?" Jaemin puckers his lips at him, leaning closer into Donghyuck's space.

"Honestly, fuck you," Donghyuck snaps, turning around to make his way into the class.

"Wait, wait, wait. C'mon, Hyuck," Jaemin begs as he trails in after him, his fingers curling into the sleeve of the white sweater Donghyuck is wearing today. "I promise I don't like him, I'm just messing with you."

"I don't give a fuck if you like Mark, Jaemin," Donghyuck slams his notebook against the table once he reaches his seat. He tugs his arm out of Jaemin's grip and throws himself into his chair, arms crossed over his chest defensively as he frowns at the desk. "That's the point. I. Don't. Care."

"I'm just trying to help," Jaemin pushes himself up to sit sideways on the table, dangling his feet in the air as he pouts down at Donghyuck. "You don't have to be such a little bitch about it."

Donghyuck tilts his head to the side, sticking his tongue into his cheek to stop himself from causing a scene in the middle of the class. "And what do you think I need your help for?"

"I know you like him. Let me finish," Jaemin brings one of his hands to Donghyuck's mouth, pressing against his lips harder than necessary. The smile he throws Donghyuck's way is so big that it looks more threatening than helpful. "You've been having these weird staring matches for a whole year, Hyuck. But you've never... I mean, I've known you for a long time now, and you've never shown interest in anyone before," Jaemin takes his fingers off of Donghyuck's mouth to slide them down to his shoulder, sinking his pads there. "If you need help to approach him or something, I can introduce you to each other properly and—"

"I don't want you to do shit for me, Jaemin," Donghyuck brushes Jaemin's hand off his shoulder roughly. "I don't like him. I'm not interested in him. And you need to stop trying to stick your nose in my business."

"Alright, alright," Jaemin raises his open hands to show that he's giving up, his wide smile shrinking until it turns into a small pout. "I'm just trying to look out for you, you know? You don't have to be a fucking dickhead about it. I'm just worried."

"Worried 'cause I don't like to go out every night and hook up with strangers?" Donghyuck shoots at him, low and cruel. He grimaces at himself when the words are out, but putting up a fight is the only thing that's stopping him from spilling all his secrets right there, and he doesn't think he could handle Jaemin looking at him the same way his mom does.

"Worried because you don't go out _at all_ ," Jaemin's eyebrows knit together, the soft lines of his face going stone cold as he jumps off the table. "Worried 'cause you've been alone for 19 years now. Worried because you don't talk to anyone but us. And embarrassed as hell because you won't stop pining from afar like a schoolboy," he laughs at the end, bitter and hurt, and Donghyuck knows he deserves it.

"I'm fine," Donghyuck lies through his teeth, reaching out to grab Jaemin's wrist before he can storm off. "I promise, I'm doing fine. Thank you for worrying about me, but I don't need it."

Jaemin stares at him through squinted eyes, his features softening up the longer Donghyuck holds his gaze. He slides his wrist out of Donghyuck's grip only to thread their fingers together, giving Donghyuck's hand a gentle squeeze as his mouth curls upward in a conciliatory smile.

Donghyuck's shoulders sag in relief, the tension in his chest easing up at Jaemin's grin. He's already slowly losing his dreams, he doesn't want to lose the few good things he has in real life.

But then, when Jaemin is about to reply, Donghyuck's attention is pulled to the door irremediably, his eyes finding Mark's body inevitably. He can't tear his gaze away from him for some reason, he feels compelled to follow Mark through the room like a sunflower drawn to the sun.

Jaemin's fingers squeezing tightly around Donghyuck’s is what breaks him out of it. When he looks up again, Jaemin is smirking at him deathly and knowing.

Donghyuck lets go of his hand, and threatens, "Shut up or I'll kill you."

Jaemin only giggles, and Donghyuck can feel Mark's eyes on them like a punch.

\---

Minhyung doesn't show up every night, not anymore. The times he does come, he looks blurred around the edges, and he's always talking about Haechan.

But it's not that bad, Donghyuck tells himself that it's not that bad. After all, Minhyung keeps talking about Haechan as if he were talking about Donghyuck, so Donghyuck can handle it.

Minghyung keeps saying _you dyed your hair silver_ and _we listened to Michael Jackson together_ and _your hand was sweaty when you held mine_ and _you punched my shoulder when I told you you looked cute today_. He keeps talking as if he's sharing these stories with Donghyuck instead of with a third person that happens to look just like him. Minhyung keeps saying _you, you, you_ as if he wants to share his daily life with Donghyuck just as much as Donghyuck yearns for him every morning. So Donghyuck can handle it.

But, in the end, Donghyuck doesn't experience any of this first-hand. Minhyung keeps looking up at him with wide, twinkling eyes, the expectation melting into a blue sadness whenever Donghyuck can't give him what he's silently asking for.

And Donghyuck wants to say _I would know you, no matter the time and no matter the place, I would always know you_. But he bites his lips red and smiles back every time Minhyung gifts him one of his genuine grins—small smiles that seem painted for someone else—rarer and rarer each night that goes by.

\---

Mark looks so painfully _human_.

That's the only thing Donghyuck can think of when Mark trips right in front of him, his hot chocolate splashing his baby blue shirt as notes slip from his hands, scattering all over the washed yellow of the hallway floor.

Mark doesn't fall face-first into the ground, though. He's able to hold his ground, his now empty cup of chocolate held so tightly in his fist that the paper glass crumples under his fingertips. He's looking down with wide, startled eyes, his mouth shaped in a perfect circle as his face goes completely pale.

"Oh, dang," he says into the air when he accidentally steps on his notes, his eyebrows knitted together as he kneels down to pick up the mess.

"Hyuck, dude, you could at least help," Renjun bumps his shoulder against Donghyuck's on his way to help Mark, slapping his own notes against Donghyuck's chest for him to hold before he’s kneeling down on the floor.

But the thing is, Donghyuck _can't_ help, even if he wanted to.

It might sound ridiculous, the fact that he's unable to approach Mark when Minhyung is somewhere out there growing closer and closer to Haechan as the seconds run by. Donghyuck can hear the hands of a clock ticking in his ears, faster each morning that goes by, in tune with his heartbeat.

He stands there, hugging Renjun's notes to his chest, his eyes getting trapped in Mark's frame. Mark gazes up at him as if he can sense Donghyuck, he smiles small and tight-lipped, and he looks so awkward and normal and _alive_ , far more solid and present than Minhyung has ever looked.

Donghyuck thinks: _that's not my boy_. And he isn't sure who he's trying to convince.

\---

Donghyuck swears he can handle it. That is until he spends five nights in a row sitting alone on a rooftop, his neck getting cramped as he looks up at the pitch-black sky. It can't be a coincidence, the shooting stars running through the darkness when Minhyung isn't around, as if they are relieved there's no one around there with the power to steal their magic, steal their glow.

On the sixth night, the sky is lavender purple and clear, and Donghyuck feels Minhyung before he sees him.

"I'm sorry," that's the first thing he says, barely above a whisper, when he sits down on the empty seat next to Donghyuck. He's close enough that they are touching from shoulder to wrist, and Minhyung's hand looks almost paper-white and paper-thin compared to Donghyuck's. "It's getting harder to reach you."

They are sitting in an empty, roofless theater, the broken screen in front of them playing an endless loop of a white door closing. Donghyuck curses his own mind under his breath as he thinks back to the times he used to yearn for that door. Now, all he feels is a terrible void in the pit of his stomach, growing bigger each night that goes by, as if these dreams are trying to devour him from the inside out. Still, Donghyuck always manages to show up without fail.

"Is it really getting harder?" Donghyuck asks bitterly, his hand simmering where his wrist is pressed against Minhyung's. "Maybe you aren't trying hard enough."

When Minhyung places his hand on top of Donghyuck's, it still burns, because it always burns when it's him. But the weight of it feels barely there, and it breaks Donghyuck's heart in more ways he can count.

"I always want to see you," Minhyung mumbles, running his fingertips up and down Donghyuck's fingers as if he's trying to memorize the shape. "It just feels like- Like I don't belong? I'm _trying_ , but I can't focus after being with _him_."

The word doesn't hit Donghyuck as hard as he thought it would because he's been expecting it. He quietly wonders for how long Minhyung has been thinking of him and Haechan separately now, wonders if all this time he kept saying _you, you, you_ was because he meant it, or because he was trying to spare Donghyuck the heartache.

But he doesn't want to know the answer, not really, he feels empty enough just like this.

So Donghyuck turns his head around to look at Minhyung. He threads their fingers together and brings them closer to his mouth, his breath warming up Minyung's hand enough for him to feel real one more time, to feel _there_.

"Hey, don't cry," Minhyung moves their hands to Donghyuck's right cheek, gathering the tears there with their joined fingers. He's smiling at Donghyuck so, so sadly, and his eyes are shining with more than stars tonight. "I'm still here."

Donghyuck thinks: _for how long?_

He smiles back.

\---

Donghyuck's grandma has never looked more like a dream than she does right now. She's so pale that her skin is almost blending with the white sheets of her bed, her eyelids so thin that Donghyuck swears he can see her eyes shining through.

She's cold, too. As Donghyuck holds her hand, his thumb running over the swollen blue veins on the back, he tries to grasp some of the heat she used to always give out, both cold and warm all at the same time. But he keeps coming out empty-handed and breathless.

"What am I special for if I can't even help?" Donghyuck mumbles through his tears, his voice sounding thick and clogged up. When he blinks, droplets of salty water fall over his grandma's hand, wetting the skin like paper. "What's the point if everyone ends up leaving?"

He stares at her with stinging eyes, sniffing through his nose as he watches her expectantly. But the reply doesn’t come. She remains perfectly still but for the steady rise and fall of her chest.

Donghyuck is used to feeling disconnected from reality, but this is the first time he can't hide away in his dreams and feel like he _belongs_ somewhere. He's losing everything at once, and he's stuck in between, completely ordinary and powerless.

"I don't know how to be special if neither of you is here," he speaks one more time, bringing his grandma's hand up to his lips to warm it up with his breath.

But he never gets an answer.

\---

Donghyuck's dreams have been feeling more and more like a nightmare lately, but they've never looked quite so much like one until now.

He is at what looks like an abandoned convenience store, a broken light bulb flickering and hissing above his head, filling up the place with sudden bursts of white as if he is about to be struck by lighting. There's broken glass all over the floor, so Donghyuck has pushed himself on top of the counter to stop himself from hurting his bare feet.

When Minhyung shows up, though, he walks over the glass as if he can't even feel it's there. Donghyuck watches Minhyung's pale feet with his breath caught in his throat, waiting for bright blood to stain everything red, but the glass cuts through Minhyung as if it was cutting through air: easily, cleanly, and with no consequences.

"Hyuck," Minhyung comes to stand in between Donghyuck's legs, his white hands coming up to rest on Donghyuck's thighs, soft and barely there and _cold_. "Donghyuck."

Donghyuck looks at him through tears, his blood pounding in his temples like a hammer. He feels like he's been crying nonstop for days now, swollen eyes and swollen cheeks and a swollen heart that's about to burst out of his chest. The bell by the door keeps making a lilting sound as if there are people that they can't see coming in, and Donghyuck wonders if that's why it feels like he can't breathe, wonders if there are invisible souls stealing everything away from him.

"Hyuck, you have to let yourself be happy," Minhyung whispers against his temple, his nose brushing Donghyuck's hair like a winter breeze.

"Stop," Donghyuck hates himself like this, peeled open and scraped raw, his voice bleeding desperation as he tries to twist his fingers in the cotton of Minhyung's pajama shirt. His hands slip right through the fabric. "Kiss me?"

Minhyung laughs against him, sad as always, but still melodic and magical, like a song trapped in the air. "I wish I could," he whispers, ducking his head until his forehead is resting against Donghyuck. But Donghyuck can't feel him anymore, not really. "You should go kiss your boy, Hyuck."

A whine rips through Donghyuck's throat like a blade. He feels scratched from the inside, as if the glass all over the floor is sliding right through him, sinking under his ribs. "You're my boy, though," he chokes out, voice hoarse and spent.

Minhyung takes his hands off of Donghyuck's thighs to cradle his face between his palms, and his thumbs manage to brush away the tears even if he's almost gone. "I'm just a mirror of him."

Donghyuck sniffs, wrapping his legs around Minhyung's waist to bring him even closer, a useless attempt at stopping him from slipping away right through his grasp. "Am I only a mirror to you?" he whispers, his eyes stinging from keeping them open for too long. But he doesn't even dare to blink in case Minhyung won't be there once he opens his eyes again.

"You're the love of my life, Hyuck," Minhyung confesses, quiet in the infinite space between them. He flashes warm for a moment, solid under Donghyuck's thumbs with the truth of his words. "You just happen to go by a different name when I'm awake."

"Fuck this," Donghyuck pushes his face against Minhyung's chest, rubbing his cheeks dry there, breathing him in while he still can. "I fucking love you. I hate this," he mumbles against Minhyung's pajama shirt, his lips brushing over where his heart is supposed to beat.

"You’ve always had such a dirty mouth," Minhyung's chest rumbles under Donghyuck's cheek with soft laughter. There's a hand on Donghyuck's nape, then, and fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his skull to tug him up. "Are you gonna kiss me goodbye with that mouth?"

Donghyuck frowns up at Minhyung, hitting his chest with fisted hands. "Don't say that fucking word," he bites, pressing his knuckles against Minhyung's skin, hard enough to bruise him alive, hopefully.

But Minhyung only offers him a sad lopsided smile, his thumb running down the side of Donghyuck's neck. "Stop throwing a tantrum and hurry up. I don't think I have much time."

And Donghyuck wants to fight him so badly. He wants to scream into his face to try _harder_ , he wants to yell at Minhyung that it isn't _fair_ , that he deserves more than a memory, more than a mirror. But Minhyung keeps flashing in front of him, distorted like a broken movie screen, every line of his body tense with the effort he's making to stay present, to stay there, for Donghyuck and for no one else.

So Donghyuck tangles his fingers in the front of Minhyung's shirt and pulls him as close as he can, tightening his legs around him as he raises up, catching Minhyung's lips with his own.

This time around, it doesn't taste like a secret. It tastes like an afterthought. Donghyuck licks into Minhyung's mouth trying to chase his taste, but he only feels his own salty tears on his tongue, bitter and sad and _hollow_. He whimpers into Minhyung's mouth, tugging at his shirt to bring him impossibly closer, but it feels like he's kissing a memory, an empty shell instead of a boy.

Donghyuck is bleeding desperation, trying to reach for melted ice cream, cheap beer and strawberry lollipop. His nails claw at Minhyung's chest, desperate to grab onto someone that isn't there anymore. And he _yearns_ so badly, he doesn't know where to put all the feelings inside of him if Minhyung isn't there for him anymore, open-handed and warm.

The worst part is Minhyung's smile when they finally pull apart, incredibly far away and guilty. There's something terrible in the way he trails his white fingers down Donghyuck's arms, holding onto his wrists as if Donghyuck is the one that's made of thin air.

"I'm sorry," Minhyung whispers. And he means it. And that hurts a million times worse than a goodbye. "Go give your boy a chance."

\---

Donghyuck wakes up with a fever, tangled in between sweaty sheets and wet clothes. He keeps going in and out of sleep for the entire day.

Every time he dreams, all he can see is a black sky full of stars.

\---

Donghyuck misses his dreams the same way he used to miss his old childhood town: wholeheartedly and painfully and hollow-chested.

It's not only about Minhyung, he tells himself. It's about everything being taken away from him, like a robbery he couldn't have seen coming, like a summer storm that blew away his roof without previous warning. He feels stripped down, unsheltered, like a lonely wanderer.

For a long time, he had convinced himself that real life could never get worse than high school, when not only everything around him seemed determined to bring him down, but his own body had become his worst enemy. But even then, back when he felt a stranger under his own skin, he could always find relief at night. Opening his eyes into a dream felt like a hug from an unconditional friend, and Minhyung just happened to be there, open-armed to welcome Donghyuck into an actual embrace.

Now, with stacks of overdue homework piling on his desk, with hours and hours of sleepless nights piling over his shoulders, and with the ghostly image of his grandma's face always imprinted behind his eyelids, there is nowhere Donghyuck can run away.

He's tired, exhaustion running deeper than his bones, and desperate to hide away for longer than one night. But he can't even afford one night, lately. His mind keeps refusing to build up dreams around him, so he might as well write his own.

That's what prompts him to pick up a pen. After weeks of pitch-black nights and blue-dimmed days, he flops down on his usual spot next to his sick grandma's bed and scribbles ink into white paper, filling page after page with lyrics that talk of missing homes and cursed lives and lost lovers.

It doesn't dull the emptiness in his chest, but it makes him feel like he's sharing the burden.

\---

It takes Donghyuck almost a month to find the word, but he settles for _fraud_.

He feels like a fraud, a little kid that grew up between lies that made him believe he was meant to be someone special. He's yearned for normal for so long, but he feels ordinary in the most disarming kind of way, disappointment thick under his tongue and heavy on his eyelids whenever he wakes up after yet another dreamless night.

At first, Donghyuck thought that Minhyung had taken his magic with him, along with his first love. But now, he's starting to believe that the magic was never his in the first place. And it's so difficult to find a way to be himself in real life when he can't even _be_ in dreams.

But at least he can sing about it. And it may be his exhausted mind playing tricks on him, but he swears his grandma glows whenever he shares one of his new songs with her. It's not much, but the weight in his chest eases up enough to let him breathe at the thought that he has the power to make her feel better, somehow.

Music makes him believe he's worth something, and that's enough for now.

\---

Donghyuck buys a new notebook for his lyrics only and sticks it into the small front pocket of his laptop case. Even if he doesn’t dare to scribble during class hours, just the knowledge that it’s there close to him makes his classes a little easier to bear, helps his mind to actually focus on what his teachers are explaining.

But, even in class, sometimes his fingers itch with the need to page through his lyrics. It usually happens when Mark is around, ever so present, always so solid, with a permanent spot in this life that Donghyuck still struggles to accept that belongs to him. Mark is always spacing out in class while he plays with his pen between his fingers, he’s always tripping down the hallways and bursting through doors late. He’s always moving around recklessly and clumsily as if he isn’t even aware of how lucky he is to be alive, to be _here_.

But Mark is also so damn pretty. As much as he makes Donghyuck’s chest ache, memories echoing through his mind like arrows without an aim, he’s so pretty that Donghyuck needs to put it into words.

He doesn’t allow himself to write about Mark until he’s safe between the walls of his grandma’s bedroom. The words that flow through him long for a boy he can never get back, and describe one he doesn’t even know. Donghyuck sings of unforgettable dreams and impossible places, of sparkling wide eyes he hasn’t seen in weeks and warm cheeks he’s never touched.

When he writes down these lyrics, he presses the tip of his pen so hard against the pages that it almost breaks through.

\---

"So," Jaemin starts, jumping on top of Donghyuck's desk as if he belongs there. "There's this open mic tonight..."

"I told you I don't sing in front of people," Donghyuck cuts him off, pushing at his thigh to make room for his laptop and notes.

"And I told you you should!"

Donghyuck sighs, leaning down against the backrest of his chair as he looks up at Jaemin's bright smile. "I'm sorry, but I don't really feel like it."

"You _never_ feel like it, Hyuck, that's the point," Jaemin is frowning at him, but his words are far away from being mean. He brings a hand up to Donghyuck's face, pinching his cheeks between his thumb and index finger so Donghyuck's lower lip juts out in an exaggerated pout. "You look like shit lately, worse than usual."

"Aw, thanks, man," Donghyuck's voice comes muffled by Jaemin's fingers. He rolls his eyes, trying to pull away.

But Jaemin only holds onto him tighter. "I mean that I'm worried about you. And I think singing can cheer you up."

"I can't, seriously," Donghyuck insists, curling his fingers around Jaemin's wrist to finally pull his hand away. He sticks his tongue into his sore cheek before he adds, "I have to take care of my grandma."

Jaemin's shoulders slump at that, his hand reaching out for Donghyuck's before he can pull away completely. "You've been taking care of her every day for weeks, Hyuck. You need to relax, too," he's looking at Donghyuck with sad eyes, bordering on pity. All Donghyuck can do is stare back and chew on his lip to stop himself from starting a fight. "Just think about it, alright?"

Donghyuck nods, but he has no intention of showing up tonight.

\---

Later that day, Donghyuck is sitting in his usual spot next to his asleep grandma's bed, his feet propped up on top of the mattress. He's so invested in the lyrics he’s writing that he almost jumps when he feels fingers curling around his right ankle. When he looks up, his grandma is staring at him through heavy lids, but her eyes are clear and twinkling and _open_ , and that's all that matters.

"Hey, nice to see you again," Donghyuck whispers at her as he puts his notebook aside on top of the blankets.

She smiles, wrinkled and tight, but far warmer than she's been lately. "What are you doing here, Donghyuckie?"

"Looking after you," Donghyuck frowns, stretching to touch the tips of his fingers to the back of her pale hand, still wrapped around Donghyuck's ankle. "What else would I be doing?"

"I think you know," she tells him with hoarse words, endlessly kind and grinning with mischief. Donghyuck has missed it so damn much, that flash of magic in his life, as much as he’s been missing it in his dreams. "I think we both know there is somewhere else you should be tonight."

And who is he to argue with a psychic? They've been telling him that he's a special boy, but he's never been as special as her.

\---

It's been weird lately, both in real life and in his dreams, even after a month. Donghyuck feels more disconnected from reality than usual, as if something is missing. He isn't sure if it's inside of him or outside him or both at once, but he keeps looking around like a lost boy hoping to be found. His eyes keep finding Mark in every corner, and it only deepens the void in his chest, flaring up that yearning he doesn't know how to deal with.

Sometimes he wishes to be like his mom, untouched by magic, so he wouldn’t be aching for it now. He's always feeling half empty and dimmed down, not ordinary at all but never special enough. If he truly was special, he could've stopped Minhyung from slipping right through his fingers.

Donghyuck just wants some clarity, wants something real and solid and _easy_. He wants to be made of magic and completely normal all at once, like his grandma. Anything but someone who's stuck in between and bad at both things.

But, if there's something he's good at, that is singing. Even with sharp nerves turning his stomach inside out, he goes up on stage with firm feet, grabs the mic stand with dry hands, and feels more grounded than he's felt in weeks.

It is so easy to spot Mark amongst the crowd. He's standing to the right side of the stage, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, twisting the hem of his plaid shirt between his fingers as he stares intently at Donghyuck. So Donghyuck stares back, like he’s been doing for a year. He looks directly into Mark's eyes and feels his nerves rolling off his body in waves. He tunes out the cheers coming from his friends, the judging eyes from the other signers, and the expectant faces of the rest of the crowd. His chest is so full of the familiar lines of Mark's face that there is no room for anything else.

When he sings, Donghyuck's voice never breaks.

He sings about hidden dreams and secret meetings and uncharted magic. And Mark doesn't look at Donghyuck like he understands, but he looks at him like he'd be willing to listen to everything about it, his eyes trained on Donghyuck's body unblinking, as if he wants to unravel him. Donghyuck wonders if that was the look on his own face whenever he stared at Minhyung.

And it hurts, the sole thought hurts. But it is a dull pain, familiar and wrapped in a newness that somehow soothes the sting.

Once the song is over, Mark stays there, standing by the stairs of the stage as he waits for Donghyuck. And Donghyuck feels like a dream when he walks towards him, each stride like stepping on a cloud.

"Hi. Um, hello. I'm Mark," he says when Donghyuck reaches him. He's already rushing over his words, his fingers still tight on the hem of his shirt. "Dude, your voice is like so, so pretty," Mark stutters, his eyes growing rounder and wider. "I mean, seriously, man. I'm in awe. Like, dang, I could listen to you forever. But, wait, not in a creepy way or something."

Donghyuck looks at him with raised eyebrows, and Mark can't hold his gaze for longer than three seconds. He ducks his head down, but Donghyuck can still catch the pretty cloud of rosy dust that spreads over his pale cheeks, the deep red decorating the tip of his ears.

"Seriously, you're crazy talented," Mark keeps saying, smiling at Donghyuck's feet now, sounding so incredibly honest that it takes the breath away from Donghyuck's lungs.

"Someone told me you’re decent at playing the guitar," Donghyuck tells him, scooting close enough until the tip of his right shoe presses against the tip of Mark's left sneaker. He rubs his sweaty palms against his jeans, swallows down on nothing, and adds, "Maybe you could play for me someday?"

Mark looks up at him again, then. His head is still ducked down, his eyebrows curved cutely over his wide black eyes as he smiles with hollow cheeks. He looks so, so familiar, but makes Donghyuck feel jittery and tongue-tied in a way he never had to feel around Minhyung. It’s scary but exciting all at once. It’s painful, but Donghyuck’s body yearns for that familiarity as if Mark were an old friend.

Mark is flushed all the way down to his neck just from looking at Donghyuck. It makes Donghyuck feel special in such an ordinary way. He feels a bit drunk on the sensation, greedy to hold onto the foreign feeling with clammy hands and never let go.

"Yeah! I’d love to, dude. Sure," Mark rushes to reply, his voice so high that it cracks at the end.

They both burst into laughter at the same time, and Donghyuck swears Mark sounds like bottled up magic.

\---

"So you wrote these yourself?" Mark asks, his eyebrows curved high in his forehead as he stares up from Donghyuck's notebook.

Donghyuck can't bring himself to reply, his words stuck between frantic heartbeats as he looks back at Mark with wide eyes. He didn't think it would be this difficult to share things about himself with Mark when he looks so awfully alike to Minhyung that Donghyuck feels the need to pinch himself awake sometimes. Mark looks like someone who already knows Donghyuck inside out, as familiar to him as the dips between his fingers. But, somehow, Mark's presence in real life affects Donghyuck in ways Minhyung has never affected him in dreams.

While he felt protected and unjudged when he was asleep, he feels exposed all the way to his ribs here, a mess of sweaty skin and ruined nails and a wild heart that keeps punching his chest so hard Donghyuck is afraid it will end up bruising his skin. He thinks it may be the _permanence_ of it all, the fact that he's moving in the real world and everyone around him is awake. Everything he does here will stay with him forever, scar him in a way that could be visible for someone other than himself. This is not a secret dream. Here, Donghyuck is peeling himself open for Mark to judge.

But Mark looks at him with sparkling black eyes when he says, "They sound so dreamy. Like, so magical?" He laughs then, short and breathy and shy, his hand coming up to rub at the redness on his neck. "I'm not sure if that makes sense, but they are really pretty. That's what I'm trying to say. Yeah."

And it's pretty funny, the irony of Mark apologizing because his praises don’t make sense when Donghyuck is sure no one but Minhyung could ever understand his lyrics.

"Um, thank you," Donghyuck chokes out in a small laugh, his voice all hoarse and wobbly around his fingers as he chews on his nails, sounding like a different person. When he takes the notebook back from Mark's hands, he hopes Mark won't notice the dampness of his skin when their fingers brush.

"No need, you're truly talented, dude," Mark insists, his mouth stretching into a smile as he places one of his hands on Donghyuck's thigh.

He feels as scorching hot as Minhyung used to feel before he started to fade away. Donghyuck is distantly aware that the back of his knees shouldn't sweat this much for an innocent hand on his thigh, but Mark is leaning closer and warm to the point that Donghyuck's throat goes dry.

"Do you mind if I try to, like, come up with music for your lyrics?" Mark asks, still wide-eyed, so excited over messy sentences with a meaning he can't grasp.

He squeezes Donghyuck's leg once before he’s letting go to grab his guitar, resting next to him on the bench they are sitting on. Everything feels amplified somehow, heavier than a dream and sharper than any nightmare, and Donghyuck's leg itches as if Mark's fingerprints were needling a permanent tattoo on his skin.

Donghyuck rubs his palms against his pants, partly to try to get rid of the sweat and mostly to try to spell away the uncalled goosebumps on his skin.

"Yeah, sure," he says, coughing a little as he looks at Mark with squinted eyes. The sun is already low in the sky, shining brightly behind Mark, wrapping him up in a soft afterglow that softens his edges. Donghyuck tries to swallow the irrational fear that crawls up his throat at the sight, like a bitter warning that Mark is about to dissolve right before his eyes. "That's what we're here for, after all."

Mark plays the guitar as if the notes come to him as naturally as breathing. His fingers trap the chords easily under his half-bitten nails, his left hand sliding up and down the neck of the instrument carefully, as if it could come undone under his touch at any moment. It's a delicacy Donghyuck wasn't expecting to see in someone so human, someone as clumsy as Mark, who trips over his feet as often as he stumbles over his words. Donghyuck keeps getting himself tangled up in a mirage, half sure of what’s real and half uncertain of what’s his imagination. His grandma used to say that music is magic in a different language, and Mark spells notes into existence as easily as a magician can pull a rabbit out of a hat, and it is just as mesmerizing.

When Donghyuck starts to sing, his voice matches the notes perfectly, as if Mark has been born to put music to his words, as if he's managed to sneak into Donghyuck's head and steal a melody he didn’t even realize he had dreamed up. And he keeps looking at Donghyuck with this small smile, tight-lipped and with his cheekbones sticking out, his eyebrows low over his eyes in a familiar fond gaze that Donghyuck thinks is not truly there, just an echo of a memory.

Donghyuck wonders if it's possible to dream awake.

\---

It isn't new, yearning for Minhyung. Donghyuck got used to the empty space next to him when he was still a kid, he learned to memorize everything exciting that happened throughout his day so he could recite it as a bedtime story once he fell asleep, with Minhyung's starry eyes looking at him as if he was hanging from every word that came past Donghyuck's lips.

He's always had to miss Minhyung, but not _all the time_. Donghyuck would never want to forget him, but the worst part about remembering him is knowing that he won't be able to tell him about it later.

But Mark keeps dancing around Donghyuck's corners, sneaking his way into his peripheral vision as if he's been made for Donghyuck to stare at. And, now, Donghyuck doesn’t have the strength to hold himself back anymore.

Mark is like a living memory, a piece of Donghyuck's most tender secrets exposed for the world to see. So Donghyuck stares because it is the only thing that makes him feel half full, and he likes to think that he deserves a break.

And Mark, Mark is looking back every single time. He's always smiling, with no trace of sadness hidden on the corners of his lips.

Donghyuck may be terrified of losing him even when he barely knows him, but he smiles back, beckons Mark closer anyway, and dreams with his eyes wide open.

\---

They keep meeting up at parties because Donghyuck doesn't have dreams to arrive on time anymore, but he sure has a boy he can dance with.

Donghyuck doesn't regret a single one of the nights he spent with Minhyung, and if someone gave him the chance to bring him back in exchange for all his future nights, he would agree in a heartbeat. But jumping in a crowded pub with his friends as alcohol runs through his body makes him forget that he has someone to miss, and that's good enough. At least for now.

Tonight, Donghyuck isn't keeping count of the drinks he's having, and maybe he should, because alcohol in the real world makes his body feel unnaturally light, his head dreamily cloudy, and his tongue dangerously loose. But Mark's fingers are warm against his when Donghyuck reaches out to take the drink from his hand, and he swears the mouth of the bottle tastes sweeter than it should when Donghyuck brings it to his lips.

There's a slow song playing, but Jaemin looks at Donghyuck with wild glassy eyes and a blinding smile, digs his fingers into Donghyuck's forearm, and forces him to jump out of pace. It's intoxicating, the sight of Jaemin and Renjun and Jeno jumping around and glowing in impossible colors. And Mark is right next to them, sharing drinks and space and _time_ , following the same rhythm as them, existing at the same speed.

Mark has always been beautiful, but he looks prettiest like this: closed-eyed, with his head thrown back, the line of his neck glistening with sweat and glitter as the purple light of the mirrorball showers all over him.

He looks like a dream, so lucid that Donghyuck can touch him. So Donghyuck tells him so.

And Mark’s flushed, sweaty face breaks into a wide smile, drunken eyes glittering under flashing lights. He looks shiny and bright and so, so pretty when he leans closer to reply over the music, “You _are_ a dream!”

This time, the words sound like nothing but a compliment.

It might be the alcohol, but Donghyuck feels colorful and real and beautiful like the mirrorball spinning above their heads.

\---

Even though Donghyuck would trade Seoul for his childhood town any day, he's always thought Soul is a beautiful city. It looks even prettier from the top, though.

It's already dark outside, the small city lights decorate the night view like lit candles of a birthday cake, lilting and alive. Donghyuck's legs are hanging out from the edge of the rooftop he's sitting on, small cars driving by under his feet as fast as lightning.

It should be terrifying, the seemingly endless free fall to an open road, so high off the ground that Donghyuck can't even distinguish the people walking down the street. But Mark is so warm beside him, pressed up against Donghyuck from shoulder to knee, his left foot knocking Donghyuck's teasingly, as if he wants to get even closer but doesn't know how. And Donghyuck, Donghyuck is starting to realize that maybe he doesn't mind Mark shoving his way into his life, under his skin, inside of his dreams. Because that’s what this night feels like, an excerpt of Donghyuck’s missing dream world.

"My nose is freezing," Mark giggles, his smile pressed up against the ice cream cone he's currently eating. "And my stomach is gonna kill me tomorrow."

"This was your idea, though," Donghyuck frowns at him. "You aren't allowed to complain."

Mark raises his eyebrows at him like a challenge, and then his hand is rushing forward, the ice cream on his cone hitting Donghyuck straight on the nose. Donghyuck only gapes at him as Mark dissolves in a fit of high-pitched giggles, his left ankle locking with Donghyuck's.

"Clean it up now, asshole," Donghyuck tells him, his cheeks tingling from the weird mix of the cold of the breeze and the warmth of a smile.

Mark leans even closer, the tip of his tongue trapped between his teeth as he brings one of his sweater paws up to Donghyuck’s face. He rubs the material against Donghyuck’s nose softly, as if he’s scared of hurting him, but he’s always so clumsy that he almost loses his balance. Donghyuck yelps at the sudden pressure, falling back on the floor of the rooftop, the rough gravel there scraping the skin of his elbows.

“Goddammit, do you want us to die?” Donghyuck huffs out, but his words come out broken with laughter.

Somehow, the cold of the night has evaporated into nothing. All he can feet is Mark half on top of him, solid and so warm, sprawled over Donghyuck’s thighs and stomach as he shakes through giggles that twinkle like stars. He sounds so much like Minhyung when he laughs like this, Donghyuck’s heart freezes in his chest, shocked at the wave of affection that crashes through him. And it’s so damn frustrating, getting constantly trapped in doubt, wondering if he’s falling for a boy or for a memory.

“I would never let you fall, though,” Mark says as he props his chin up on Donghyuck’s tummy, his cheeks so red that the color is visible and vibrant in the dim light rooftop.

Mark blushes so easily and so prettily, and it makes him look so _permanent_. It is one of Donghyuck’s favorite things about him, and the one thing that doesn’t remind him of a mirage.

\---

When Donghyuck starts to dream again, there is no door, no impossible landscapes, no glass that can cut through his skin and wound him in real life. He falls asleep, and he falls asleep, and Minhyung is still gone.

But there is a boy with cherry cheeks that smiles at Donghyuck as if he’s someone normal.

\---

“Do you think he’s mad at me?” Donghyuck asks softly one night.

It’s past midnight, and his grandma should be asleep at this hour. She’s been looking better, brighter and happier and _lively_. She’s warm to the touch and soft to the eyes, but she’s still weak, and Donghyuck can’t get rid of the panic that rattles his chest like nausea every time she so much as coughs.

But Donghyuck keeps spending more and more time outside, keeps arriving home later each night because the four walls of his bedroom take him back to dreams he can’t visit anymore, and the four walls of his grandma’s room trap him in nightmares he never wants to revisit. So he goes out, and she always waits up for him sitting at the kitchen table.

She looks like an angel every time Donghyuck walks in, glowing softly in the white light of the room. “Your dream boy?” she asks as he flops down on the chair in front of her. She’s looking at him through half-closed eyes as if she knows he's hiding something. Donghyuck can’t recall a time she’s looked at him any other way, she’s always known him best, after all. “Why would he? You’re with him almost every day, aren’t you?”

Donghyuck frowns down at his own hands, clasped over the white surface of the table, knuckles digging into the material with the need of grabbing a pen. He knows she’s right in a way, but it doesn’t make the culpability any less bitter, Donghyuck’s tongue tasting sour and heavy in his mouth each time he gets home smelling of Mark’s cologne more than of his own.

Guilt is a cruel thing, it chews at your ribs and eats you alive until you have the guts apologize. But Donghyuck has no one to apologize to but himself, and somehow that makes it even worse.

“He wants you happy, Donghyuckie,” his grandma reassures him, grabbing his hands from across the table. She works his fists open gently, threads their fingers together the way she used to do when he was a little kid. Donghyuck doesn’t dare to hold on tight in case she comes undone under his thumbs. “Every version of him wants you happy.”

And Donghyuck knows she’s right, in a way. But once he’s under his bedsheets, his notebook open over his thighs, every word that bleeds from the tip of his pen speaks of a real boy instead of a dream. Donghyuck loves the words, but it feels like he’s losing the ability to remember, and his grandma’s words don’t make it any less painful.

\---

Mark’s house is a lot smaller than Donghyuck’s because it’s only been him and his mom for a long time now. They don’t need more, or that’s what he tells Donghyuck with one of his tight-lipped smiles when they flop down together on the living room couch. It is a small loveseat, mushy, pearl-white, and stained with dry droplets of red wine that Mark’s mom splashed there a while ago and was never able to clean up.

There is enough space for Mark and Donghyuck to sit comfortably, but Mark ends up scooting closer naturally, the warmth of his thigh so familiar against Donghyuck’s skin that it is starting to feel cold whenever Mark isn’t around. The backs of Donghyuck’s knees still get damp whenever Mark places a hand on his leg, though. So does the back of his neck when he thinks they are pressed up together in a _loveseat_ , and the ridiculousness of his own thoughts heats up his entire face.

He’s always on fire around Mark, heart under his tongue and goosebumps all over his arms.

The house _smells_ like Mark. It is a mix of cheap laundry detergent, the faint bitterness of cigarette smoke and peach body soap. The stipple wall paint isn’t white anymore, bleeding yellow down each corner of the living room due to how often Mark’s mom smokes. There is a thin layer of dust over the old television, covering each and every one of the framed pictures hung on the walls, gathering on the spines of their big book collection. The living room table is full of dirty ashtrays, ripped plastic envelopes, and the breadcrumbs of the sandwiches they’ve been eating earlier.

Donghyuck stares at the shadows of old cold glasses painted all over the greyish crystal of the table as he digs his toes into the carpet and wonders if he should be feeling uncomfortable. The house is not clean by any means, both Mark and his mom always too busy running around to have the time to dust or mop anything. But it smells _spent_ , oozes _life_ , and it brings Donghyuck a kind of comfort he’s never felt in one of his dreams.

He feels like he’s stepped inside of Mark’s life in a way he could never step inside of Minhyung’s. He’s been allowed to peek into his house, breathe in his space, exist in Mark’s mind. Somehow, it feels like a bigger treasure than any of the remnants of his dreams Donghyuck still keeps locked up in a box under his bed.

It scares the shit out of him, the feeling of _fitting_ into someone else’s home, with Mark tucked into his side, slotting his body into every corner of Donghyuck’s.

“I don’t,” Mark shudders next to him, dragging Donghyuck out from his thoughts. “I don’t understand how you aren’t scared,” he complains, nails digging into the flesh of Donghyuck’s thigh.

There’s a scary movie rolling on TV, and the only reason why Donghyuck isn’t scared is that his mind is everywhere but in the images that are flashing on the screen. Mark, though, keeps clawing at Donghyuck’s skin, curling into him, squealing against his shoulder every time a jumpscare forces him to hide in the crook of Donghyuck’s neck.

This is new, too, the image of a scared Mark, wide-eyed and with his lips glistening red from biting to stop himself from screaming. It is new and different and it crashes jarringly with the memory of Minhyung, always seemingly fearless, collected and strong enough to pick Donghyuck up whenever he inevitably crumpled down.

“I think you’re just too dramatic,” Donghyuck teases, with an easiness he never thought he’d be able to achieve around Mark.

“You said you hated scary movies,” Mark pulls himself away from the crook of Donghyuck’s neck just to glare at him, his wet lower lip sticking out in an annoyed pout. He’s so endearing, Donghyuck’s breath always ends up getting caught in his throat, and he’s starting to believe no one can blame him, not even himself.

“You’re such a big baby,” he snickers, reaching down to pinch Mark’s thigh with sweaty fingers.

Mark springs away from him with a yelp. He looks at Donghyuck with his eyebrows arched up, blinking rapidly as if he’s just now realizing how close together they were, flushing red from the tip to his nose all the way to his ears. He blushes so easily, because he’s never been as bold as Minhyung, he’s never been as prone to physical affection.

Donghyuck keeps his moments with Minhyung tucked under his skin, the memories of his boy draping his body all over Donghyuck’s like a blanket, warming him up in the most gentle kind of way. Instead, Mark’s touches are rare and fast and _shy_. But his skin scorches Donghyuck’s body like fire, scars him invisibly and permanently. Donghyuck’s never been with anyone, not for real, not in a way that counts, so every slide of skin against skin is a first for him, no matter how innocent it is.

He isn’t sure if it’s this way because he isn’t used to it, or because everything feels stronger when it’s happening in real life, or if it’s just because it is Mark. But the sight of a blushing Mark has him feeling enchanted, bewitched almost, hands tickling as if they are screaming for Mark’s body, meant to be touching his skin.

Donghyuck stays still, though, laughing softly at Mark’s red face. And Mark comes back to him eventually, jumping closer when the soundtrack of the movie gets louder, hiding into Donghyuck’s neck as if that’s the only place he can feel safe.

It’s ironic, the way Donghyuck’s skin tingles in every single spot where they are touching, blood simmering as if his entire body is about to boil up. It’s a threatening feeling, like a warning that he’s about to be turned into ashes from inside out. Maybe he should be running away, should push Mark away, stuff his feet into his sneakers, and walk until he’s safely tucked under his blankets and away from anything new.

But Donghyuck’s been yearning for a safe place for so long, desperate to feel secure with his eyes wide open. And Mark’s home is messy and tangible and safer than any dream.

\---

The first time Mark kisses him they are standing in the middle of the street, late autumn morning, washed by clear-white sunlight and surrounded by the stinging smell of cold air, winter just around the corner.

There is no warning. They are hanging out with the boys just like another Sunday morning, dry leaves crunching under every step Donghyuck takes on their way to their usual coffee shop, his shoulders unusually relaxed and light, his university worries locked away inside of his room.

Mark’s lips are cherry-red and glossy, sticky looking as he smiles around the stick of the lollipop he’s sucking on.

“How long have you been eatin’ that shit for?” Jaemin frowns, looking at them over his shoulder because somehow Mark and Donghyuck always end up falling behind, feet moving at the same rhythm, like a tuning fork only they can hear. “Your damn teeth are gonna fall out, man.”

“Hey,” Mark frowns back, bringing his index and middle finger to his eyes before he’s pointing back at Jaemin with them. It’s a useless threat, not an empty one, though, cause it overflows with fondness. “Watch your fucking mouth, Jaem,” he says, words slurred due to the candy in his mouth.

It still feels like a hallucination sometimes, Mark existing at the same time as his friends, glowing bright under the weak autumn light, walking through the same streets as Donghyuck. Donghyuck has stopped trying to blink him away from his vision, though.

“What?” Mark asks when his eyes slide to Donghyuck. He’s staring with a smile on his face, always that same smile on his face, tight-lipped and hollow-cheeked and soft-eyed. He halts, pulling Donghyuck to a stop with a hand around his wrist, fingers digging into the veins there. Donghyuck wonders if he can feel his pulse down there, how it misses its pace just by the press of sticky pads onto the skin. “You’re smiling like crazy,” Mark bumps his shoulder against Donghyuck’s, his free hand coming up to his mouth to take the lollipop out from his mouth with a soft pop.

Mark’s lips are shining with spit, pinkier than usual, and Donghyuck wants to lick them clean. He licks his own lips instead, traps the upper one between his teeth to stop himself from grinning like a madman. “Can’t a man be happy?”

Mark’s eyebrows shoot up, perfectly curved as always, eyes round and twinkling with sunlight. Donghyuck still remembers that time Minhyung told him his eyes glowed like sunlight. It doesn’t sound quite as stupid anymore.

“Are you?” Mark asks, his smile shrinking into something tender, something private. He tightens his fingers around Donghyuck’s wrist, nails grazing the skin that covers the stuck out bone. “Happy, I mean. Are you?”

Donghyuck may have an answer, but he doesn’t think he can say it out loud, because some part of him is still convinced that he isn’t deserving of it—of happiness—at least not when the person that used to make him happiest isn’t around anymore. So he just shrugs, eyes dropping down to their hands, where Mark is threading their fingers together.

But happiness is the closest word Donghyuck can find to describe the feeling that floods his chest when Mark tugs him closer.

When Mark kisses him, he tastes like strawberry lollipop. Donghyuck licks his lips clean, sneaks his way into Mark’s mouth and and then traces the sweetness of every corner. And Mark is so lovely, kisses slowly and with his eyes closed, his thumb drawing soothing circles on the back of Donghyuck’s hand as if he can feel his nervousness. Because this is a first too, after all. Mark has barged into Donghyuck’s life familiar and scorching hot, determined to steal all of his firsts and turn them into reality. And Donghyuck doesn’t think he minds anymore.

Once they break apart Mark keeps his eyes closed, chases after Donghyuck’s mouth as if he’s been dreaming about this for far longer than Donghyuck has. Mark’s cheeks are soft-red and so, so warm under Donghyuck’s palms when he brings them up to cup Mark’s face. For the first time, Donghyuck wonders if Mark is simmering just like him.

He slides his thumb over Mark’s bottom lip—still shiny and red, but for entirely different reasons now—and goes dry-mouthed when his finger fits perfectly in the dip under Mark’s mouth. And Mark nuzzles into the palm of his hand, still closed-eyed and soft in every way.

Donghyuck dives back in, his friends yelling somewhere through the rush of his blood in his ears. And maybe they shouldn’t be doing this out in the middle of the street, but Mark is grabbing at Donghyuck’s waist as if he never wants to let go.

Finally, Donghyuck has something he can _share_ with the real world, and he’s determined to make the most of it.

\---

“So,” his grandma says as soon as Donghyuck walks into their house, keys still jingling in his hand as he steps on the back of his shoes to take them off. “I can see it’s going well with your boy.”

She’s leaning against the frame of the kitchen door, arms crossed over her chest as she pulls her gown tighter around her body. She’s smiling her Donghyuck smile, small and knowing, as if she knows the way into his brain as well as she knows the back of Donghyuck’s hands. And she probably does.

“Don’t use your witch magic on me,” Donghyuck frowns at her, sliding his feet into his house slippers so he can run away to hide in his room.

“It’s no magic, Donghyuckie,” she says, laughter palpable in her words as she follows him with her fond, wrinkled eyes. “Your face is all red.”

\---

Whenever Donghyuck wakes up, there are no scratches over his skin, there is no dirt under his feet, no fresh ripped holes on his pajama shirt. He wakes up, and he wakes up, and Minhyung is still gone.

But there is the screen of his phone, the flashing light of a notification, and a message of a boy asking him if he wants to hang out later.

And it is enough.

\---

It’s something about _fitting_.

It’s something about the crook of Donghyuck’s neck, the dip where it meets his shoulder, as if it was measured for Mark to hook his chin there. It’s about the line of Donghyuck’s throat, Mark’s nose molding there perfectly. It’s about the knobs of Mark’s spine, the holes between them shaped in the form of Donghyuck’s pads. It’s about the spaces between Mark’s ribs, milky skin bulking up and blushing prettily under the drag of Donghyuck’s nails. It’s about the hollows of Donghyuck’s hips, the exact same size as Mark’s tongue. It’s about that dip under Mark’s bottom lip, as if it was carved there by Donghyuck’s thumb.

It’s something about fitting and belonging and _existing together_.

Sometimes, if it wasn’t for Donghyuck’s friends being able to see him too, Donghyuck would think that Mark isn’t real. He will never admit it out loud, but he still wonders if he is hallucinating. He thinks back to his mother’s words, questions if he’s too old to have imaginary friends, because Mark looks like Donghyuck dreamt him up, like a cut out from his most secret desires.

Mark is dream-shaped, makes Donghyuck feel delirious, happy in a hot way that feels fever-inducing. He looks too good to be true, but he never vanishes when Donghyuck opens his eyes.

\---

“You look good,” Jaemin says, sitting on Donghyuck’s desk because he belongs there.

“I always look good,” Donghyuck points, slapping Jaemin’s thigh when he props one of his feet up on his table. “Stop getting my shit dirty.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes at him, but he takes his foot off the table anyway, dangling his legs down the side. He’s sitting sideways, his body twisted to look at Donghyuck in the eyes. He reaches out to squeeze Donghyuck’s cheeks between his thumb and index finger, causing his lower lip to jut out.

“Happier, I mean,” Jaemin remarks, shaking Donghyuck’s head affectionately. “You’ve got such cute lips, though, man. No doubt Mark wants to kiss you,” he says with a sigh, squishing Donghyuck’s face once more before letting go.

Donghyuck clenches and unclenches his jaw, rubbing at his now shore cheeks. “Oh, so when you told me I should date someone you meant I should date _you_?” he raises an eyebrow at Jaemin. “Aw, you only had to ask, baby.”

“I can’t stand you. You’re insufferable,” Jaemin tells him, but he’s giggling when he jumps off of Donghyuck’s desk. “Insufferably happy. Just how I like you.”

\---

Mark looks pretty under the sickly white light of Donghyuck’s kitchen. He’s got all his muscles pulled tight, socked toes digging into the cold tiles, hands holding onto the strap of his guitar case as if he’s trying to ground himself. His skin is paler than usual, the lightbulb over his head accentuates the grey bags under his eyes, and his lips are dry and bitten raw. But he’s pretty nonetheless, his cheeks going candy-pink under the scrutinizing gaze of Donghyuck’s grandma.

“I’d tell you to take care of Donghyuckie,” she says, head tilted to the side as she taps her nails over the kitchen table. “But I already know you will.”

Mark’s eyes go round and wide, flashing white when he dances his gaze from Donghyuck’s grandma to Donghyuck himself, and then back to his grandmother one more time. Donghyuck only huffs, walking closer to Mark so he can twist his own fingers into the strap of his guitar case.

“Don’t use your witch magic on him,” Donghyuck frowns at his grandma as he tugs at the strap, pulling Mark along with him when he walks to the kitchen door. Mark goes with him so easily, still blinking rapidly, ruined lips hanging open. “You’re gonna scare him.”

“He should get used to it,” Donghyuck’s grandma yells after them once they walk out of the room. “He’s gonna be sticking around!”

\---

Mark Lee wears socks with watermelon patterns, he likes to sleep shirtless even in winter, and he can’t stand it when the fitted bottom sheet gets wrinkled up. He’s afraid of bugs and amusement parks, he can’t watch slasher movies, but he enjoys the thrill of a good horror book. Mark Lee doesn’t put cereal before milk, neither does he put milk before cereal, he likes his cereal dry. He likes to dance fast to slow music, he likes to write to upbeat music, and he listens to a different song on repeat each day, over and over until he gets sick of it.

Unlike Donghyuck, Mark Lee swears he doesn’t like romantic comedies. But here he is, hugging Donghyuck’s old teddy bear to his chest as his eyes glisten with unshed tears, red around the edges because he refuses to blink, pupils focused on the laptop screen.

“Stop laughing at me,” he complains in a thick voice, choked by the need to cry. Donghyuck only snickers, pressing his smile against Mark’s naked shoulder. “They lost each other, Donghyuck! Even though they are soulmates!” Donghyuck’s body only shakes harder at the outrage in Mark’s voice, his head falling against his bed headboard with a soft thud. “You’re heartless,” Mark tells him, slapping his thigh loudly.

The thing is, Donghyuck has no idea if Mark Lee believes in soulmates, he’s never dared to ask. He doesn’t know if he will ever be brave enough to ask. And, honestly, Donghyuck himself doesn’t know if soulmates are real, doesn’t even care that much anymore. But he does like to think that, if they were, he didn’t get his wrong, after all.

What Donghyuck does know, though, is that, for the first time in a very long time, he doesn’t want to fall asleep.

\---

The last time he dreams of Minhyung, Donghyuck is 20, and he's smiling.

"So," Minhyung is further away than Donghyuck would like him to be, standing at the other side of a bright, empty hallway. When he smirks, though, Donghyuck can see him clearly. "For how long have you been talking to him?"

"I'm not about to go all cheesy on you about him," Donghyuck tells him through his teeth, his smile so wide at the sight of a solid Minhyung after so many months that his cheeks hurt. "I don't wanna make you jealous."

Minhyung tries to pout at him, but the giddy grin on his face makes it look like a weird grimace. He's bursting into giggles then, all chirpy and light and _happy_. Donghyuck distantly thinks that it doesn't fit the situation, the happiness that is flowing through them just at the sight of each other. He's more than sure that this is it, that this is goodbye, for real and forever.

"Is he cuter than me?" Minhyung asks him.

"You're always cute," Donghyuck confesses, biting down on his lower lip to keep the fuzziness in his stomach at bay. "No matter where you are."

Minhyung laughs again, louder than before, sounding so much like himself that it feels like a fever dream. He's walking backward, though, further and further away from Donghyuck. He doesn't stop walking away until his back is resting against a closed black door.

"I won't forget you," Donghyuck confesses in the large space between them. But there is no sadness behind the words, only pure sincerity and fondness. And that's exactly what Minhyung deserves after the endless joy he's brought Donghyuck throughout the years.

"I know you won't," Minhyung smirks again, his eyebrows shooting up in mischief as if they are sharing a secret. He looks like a magic trick when he says, "I'm right by your side, after all."

When Donghyuck turns around to face his white door, he's still smiling. He opens it, walks out, and doesn't look back.

\---

Donghyuck opens his eyes to Mark's shirtless back, washed in the soft golden light that's coming from the window, and dotted in countless pretty moles. For a second, Donghyuck wonders if he's still dreaming.

Mark is playing the guitar, Donghyuck's blue sheets rumpled around his waist as he hums to the soft melody coming out from his fingers. Donghyuck can't see his face from where he's still lying down on the bed, but Mark feels so defenseless and human and ordinary like this. He's so alive and he looks so beautiful, his voice ringing soft, hoarse with sleep, tender like a lullaby.

Donghyuck finds himself thinking, what a beautiful thing, a human boy that sounds like a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> i'd love to know your thoughts on this work since it's my first time writing magical realism!! i hope it was at least half decent adsfdg thank you for reading <3
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/tiniemarks) // [cc](https://curiouscat.me/tiniesung)


End file.
